What JKR Didn't Tell You
by penandpaper67
Summary: A bit of drabble. Each chapter will center on a different character and some important person or point in their life that JKR didn't really talk much about. Range from serious to silly.
1. Andromeda Tonks

**A/N: This is just a bit of drabble that I'll do in my spare time. I'm planning on doing short pieces (under 500 words) centering on or involving a specific character from HP. Each chapter will be a different character. I'm going to start off doing one for each letter of the alphabet (although they're not necessarily going to be major characters) and move on from there. If you have any suggestions for characters or plotlines let me know please! I'm not particularly happy with the first one, but I have some interesting ideas for others... There are definite spoilers in all of these, so watch out. And JKR owns the world! Just kidding, but she does own HP...**

_Andromeda Tonks_

Ted hadn't come home yet, but it was still a bit early, so Andromeda wasn't particularly worried yet. Even so, Ted had acted particularly odd that morning and Andromeda had a forboding sense... No, surely Ted was fine. He was always fine, even that one time he had come over for a summer visit. Bellatrix had just graduated, but was still living at home. Narcissa was home at well and was bothering Bellatrix thoroughly by asking for constant help with her summer homework. Andromeda had snuck into the backyard with Ted, not even daring to go into the house, lest her parents see who had ventured into their yard.

"I told you not to come and visit me! Now my parents are really going to be pissed," she had whispered viciously.

"But Andy, I couldn't stand it. You cooped up here all summer without even owl access! It's like you're in a freaking prison," Ted cried with passion.

"Andromeda, I thought Mom and Dad told you to take the trash out, not let more in," Bellatrix drawled, walking over with a disgruntled look on her face.

"Bella, stay out of this," Andromeda hissed.

"Well, I guess you can't tell the difference, seeing as you're trash yourself," Bellatrix sneered.

Suddenly Ted was no longer at Andromeda's side. He was face to face with Bellatrix, his wand at her throat. "I don't care what you call me, but don't call Andy trash," he seethed.

Bellatrix laughed at his response. "Andy, oh Andy. What's so special about a Muggle-loving weirdo like her?"

Before Ted could even open his mouth to reply, a voice deeper than any of them could possibly produce rang out across the garden. "What's all this ruckus?" Cygnus Black was standing over the scene with a scowl on his face. He took in the scene before speaking with a slow, composed tone. "You. Boy. You're that Muggle-born." It wasn't a question. "Get out."

Ted had gotten out, but had done so with a dignified, haughty look on his face. Cygnus had no idea that he and Andromeda were already engaged. He had no inkling that within years his daughter would disgrace the Black legacy and marry Ted Tonks, a Mudblood. He could never have guessed that over twenty years later, Andromeda would be sitting at the kitchen table, waiting for said Muggle-born to return home. The fact of the matter is, Ted never did.

**A/N: Did you like it (or hate it)? Let me know by reading and reviewing! And give me suggestions for characters to do!**


	2. Bartemius Crouch Jr

**A/N: I really had fun with this one. I did a little first person this time around, although Barty doesn't sound quite as devoted as I wanted him to. Oh, and thanks to everyone who reviewed my first chapter! I'm glad that you guys like the idea.**

_Bartemius Crouch Jr._

"Ah, look!" Rodolphus jeered, peering over his shoulder. "It's those idiot Longbottom Aurors, out for an evening stroll. Let's go join them, shall we?"

Bellatrix giggled and followed. I stayed back for a moment, wondering if this was what the Dark Lord had really wanted. I mean, these were purebloods for god's sake! Yes, they were stinking Aurors who had fought the rightful regime of our Lord, but wouldn't it be better to search for our leader or even fulfill his dream and take over the wizarding and Muggle worlds ourselves? This seemed so low and pointless, like a mean distraction from our now horrid everyday lives.

The former Death Eaters had completely disbanded at the disappearance of the Dark Lord. A small core group of us had remained together; we had managed to avoid suspicion thus far, but it was proving more and more difficult as time went on. Most of the others had been killed, captured, or had found a way to weasel out of a lifetime in Azkaban. Those traitors… The thought of the ones who got by on bribes, like Lucius Malfoy, or the ones who gave away their fellow Death Eaters, like Igor Karkaroff, made his blood boil. If he was ever captured, he would figure out a way to escape and find his Lord, as opposed to using foul methods and joining the Ministry.

Rabastan punched me in the arm, forcing me out of my reverie. "Come on Barty, let's go punish the nasty blood traitors, shall we?" I grunted a reply, and followed Bella and Rodolphus, who had already managed to hit the Longbottoms with a couple of curses. The Aurors weren't really putting up much of a fight, but it was pretty difficult to do so when having the Cruciatus Curse sent at you about fifty times.

As I reached the scene, Bella started to laugh hideously. "How do you like that, Muggle-lovers? Here, Barty, give it a go!" she shrieked.

I drew out my wand and focused my anger, my anger towards the ones who had dismissed the Dark Lord as soon as he had fallen. My anger towards the Lestranges for being such idiots and forgetting our real enemies. My anger at my father for, well, everything. And my anger at myself for allowing myself to deviate from my projected path in aiding my Lord. It came out in one word. A harsh "_Crucio!_" passed through my lips and all of my anger, my suffering, my pain, entered Frank Longbottom. He let out a particularly painful scream as my lips curled upward in a smirk. Then I realized what a racket we were making. How easy it would be for us to be discovered. How stupid we were in coming here. I started to run, but before I could even think up a shield charm, I was unconscious. When I woke again, I was in a cell. Damn those Lestranges…

**A/N: Please read and review (of course)! And like I said, I'll take any suggestions!**


	3. Colin Creevey

**A/N: I'm not particularly happy with this one. I'm much better at writing serious stuff, but I wanted to have something a bit more light-hearted in here. (It was either this or something to do with Charlie chasing dragons... I'll do that one later.) Anyways, I'd like to thank everyone who has given reviews so far! Especially Queenie's Broken Heart, who reviewed both chapters, and jessicats, who reviewed both chapters and gave some great suggestions which I'll definitely bump to the top of my list.**

_Colin Creevey_

Colin was bored. This happened very rarely, as he usually could find someone to follow around and bother, but today all third years and above were in Hogsmeade. He knew Harry Potter couldn't go to Hogsmeade, but he hadn't been able to find him anywhere. Thus, Colin was fooling around with his camera. He hadn't really done much picture taking since the summer, when he had gotten a new camera to replace the old one which the basilisk had destroyed. He had been so busy with his second year homework that he had nearly forgotten his old hobby! But he had promised Dennis plenty of pictures of the grounds and his fellow wizards…

He decided to sit by the lake and wait for the giant squid to appear, at least for a moment, so that he could take a photo. _That would certainly entertain Dennis_, he thought. Suddenly, a fat, slippery tentacle emerged from the sparkling surface of the black water, spraying Colin quite thoroughly. He retreated quickly, not completely certain of how benign the squid truly was. The tentacle groped for a moment, as though it was looking for something. Colin shut his eyes, sure that that something was him. But when he opened them, he realized that the tentacle had lifted up his camera by the strap, raising it twenty feet into the air and then down into the murky water with a giant splash. Colin sat still for a moment, stunned, and then began to giggle. The giant squid just didn't want its picture taken! _Haha, wait until I tell Dennis,_ he thought, and then with a groan, _and Dad's going to kill me! That's my second camera in a year and a half!_

Two Years Later:

"What were you thinking, letting yourself fall in? You know the giant squid's in there, I've told you a thousand times!" admonished Colin, while smiling a little.

"Well, I thought I could get your camera back of course!" squeaked Dennis. "But I didn't see it, even though I saw the giant squid. I really did, he pushed me back in!" he cried at Colin's disbelieving stare.

"I know, I believe you. The giant squid's a nice guy really. Just a little camera shy."

**A/N: Please review! I probably won't have the next one up until Monday (although I might get bored and write one tomorrow morning) because I shall be without computer for the weekend. I will, however, have plenty to post when I get back!**


	4. Dobby

**A/N: This one is about the briefly touched upon relationship between Dobby and Aberforth. I don't know how I feel about this one. I think it's weaker than some of the other ones, and it's not really focused fully on Dobby. But I had a hard time coming up with stuff for him, so I settled for this... Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far, it's been a big help!**

_Dobby_

"Master Aberforth, sir, a message from Professor Dumbledore!" squeaked Dobby, with unnecessary enthusiasm.

"What is it, elf?" grunted Aberforth rudely.

"He looked very sad actually, sir, Dobby doesn't really know why, but he said 'Tell him I'm sorry.'" Dobby seemed to be working himself into a tizzy, worrying about his master's strange behavior.

"Well tell him he's a fool, and I don't particularly care if he's sorry. I've already forgiven him as much as I ever will."

"Alright, sir, anything else? Dobby could make some tea or –"

"I don't want your bloody tea," snarled Aberforth testily.

Dobby left, a little hesitantly. Albus Dumbledore had been the kindest of men to him. He had taken him in, offered him a job while supporting his freedom, and even let him go on special missions sometimes. This often included carrying messages to Aberforth Dumbledore. Dobby admired Albus Dumbledore very much indeed, almost as much as he did Harry Potter, but he could not bring himself to think highly of Aberforth. The man was a mystery to Dobby. He was not evil like Dobby's previous masters, the Malfoys, but he seemed only to care for himself.

Before leaving for his last venture, Albus had left Dobby a note in the kitchens; Dobby did not receive it until after the beloved headmaster's death. He had read it with shaking hands, tears flowing down his small face, still overcome with grief at his second favorite person's passing.

_Dobby – _

_You have been a great help to me it the past few years, and I thank you heartily for everything you have done. I give you one last order. Until the war is over, work for my brother, Aberforth. He will continue to treat you as I have and give you protection from the Death Eaters. After the war you are free to do as you wish._

_Farewell,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

After ten months of serving Aberforth Dumbledore, Dobby's views still hadn't changed. In fact, the apathetic wizard was even less appealing to Dobby now than he once was. He mostly ignored Dobby and rarely gave him anything to do. Thus Dobby was quite surprised when his master summoned him one day.

"Can Dobby help you, sir?" Dobby queried with wide eyes.

"Go! Go quick, Dobby, go to Malfoy Manor!" Aberforth breathed.

"What? But sir, Dobby doesn't –"

"I don't care! Harry Potter is in trouble and if he can't escape, we're done for!"

Harry Potter? In trouble? Dobby's ears twitched.

"Yes, sir," he said steadily, giving a quick salute. Just before disapparating, he looked Aberforth straight in the eye. For a moment, a current of understanding rippled between them. Then Dobby was gone.

**A/N: Let me know what you think! Please review and feel free to suggest characters, although please try to refrain from suggesting major ones, as I already have them on my list.**


	5. Ernie Macmillan

_Ernie Macmillan_

Ernie Macmillan was not a rash person. He never rushed into things, he rarely took risks, and he never broke the rules. He was too focused on his studies most of the time, as of course, that was what Hogwarts was about. He had never imagined joining a club or trying out for the Quidditch team. The people who did that were usually either slackers, jocks, or Muggle-borns trying to learn more about the Wizarding world, and Ernie could definitely not be categorized in any of those groups. First off, he was top in his class in Hufflepuff in academics, so no one could call him a slacker. He had never been on a broom in his life (too dangerous, he thought), so jock was out too. Plus, Ernie was as pureblooded as a pureblood could be; his wizarding line went back for generations without Muggles. And thus Ernie stood, no clubs, no Quidditch, and way too much studying. Basically, he had no life.

It wasn't as though he wasn't aware of the fact that he was a complete nerd and bookworm. He wanted to do something different, something risky, but nothing that seemed _right_ had popped up yet. More than anything, he wanted to do something that would impress Susan Bones, his secret crush. He was just about to give up on finding something when Hermione Granger approached him in the library. "Hey Ernie," she whispered. "Can I have a minute?"

He had been sitting alone, working on a particularly nasty potions essay and was glad to get away from it. "Sure," he said, scooting over and making room for Hermione. "What's up?"

She looked around them, as if to make sure that no one could hear. "You're not happy with the way Umbridge's teaching us, right? You want to learn how to _do_ spells, don't you?"

"Definitely," he said pompously. "How else will we pass our O.W.L.s?"

"Well, yes. But it is more important than that, Ernie," she tensed and gave him a look. "We were… Well, I was… We want Harry Potter to teach us. After classes, we'd make a sort of club of it. Anyways, there'll be a meeting tomorrow, at the Hog's Head. Come if you're interested, but don't tell anyone."

As Hermione ran off, no doubt to find some other people to invite, Ernie pondered the idea. This would be a good chance to stick it to Umbridge, to do something exciting, to impress Susan. He would have his club, and it would help him with his academics while being a great break from studying. Even if he got in trouble for it… But he was a prefect wasn't he? Shouldn't he fulfill his duties, not break the rules… He wasn't breaking the rules though. He was trying to learn how to make his mark on this world. He had to join, no exceptions. And undoubtedly, he'd see Susan there. She was the type to do those sorts of things.

**A/N: Please tell me what you think! And thanks again to all of my reviewers.**


	6. Fenrir Greyback

**A/N: This is a really different style from what I usually write. I felt like it ended kind of suddenly, but I was getting kind of bored with it. Anyways, I realized part way through when I started using italics that it's sort of like Edgar Allen Poe's style, which really matches the mood. (I know this because I had to write in his style for an English assignment. The only thing missing is the incessant usage of dashes.) **

_Fenrir Greyback_

Pain. Excruciating pain. Starting in my arm and crawling, crawling up over to my chest down, down over my legs, up my neck to my face. My eyes, my nose, my mouth. Everything is burning. I can't think. All I know is this, this pain. Black, red, black, red. Colors switch hot and swift in my eyelids. He's standing over me, I see him. Silhouetted. His figure, gray against the red, black. They mix together. Gray, red, black; gray, red, black. Red, red, RED! I open my eyes, too fast, too bright. Red, red is everywhere. My eyes, my arm, his mouth. I can't see, can't see for the red. It clouds, covers my thoughts, mists over my eyes, eats away at my soul.

He moves away. I am mad. The red makes me mad, angrier by the minute. More insane by the minute. Less human by the minute. The pain pulses now. The colors do not change. They cannot change; my vision is forever red. My life is forever red. I smell it. I smell red. I smell BLOOD! I have never smelled anything as sweet as this. It is blood and only blood and I must have it. I will have it. I _do_ have it. Her throat is as pliable as anything. Her flash is soft, far too soft. It is easy, no challenge to it. The blood comes, sweet as anything, but not satisfying. I need a chase, a fight, anything but an easy kill. I need to move on. Goodbye, Mother.

The pain again, it blinds with red and blood. Then I know I am no longer human. I feel it, sprouting, moving, blowing in the wind. Bristling, I move it to see how it feels. And it _moves_, it moves when I want it to, where I want it to. Noise, building in my throat, bubbling up, churning out, howling, howling, silence. I hear nothing but the howl. I feel nothing but the hair. I taste and smell nothing but the blood. I see nothing but red. I want nothing more than to bite, to kill, to get rid of this pain.

**A/N: Tell me what you think! And don't forget to suggest stuff. Thanks to those who have reviewed and suggested. I promise if you suggest something I'll do it sooner than if you don't (so please do). I have an order written out now, but I'll change it if a bunch of people want a certain character.**


	7. Ginny Weasley

**A/N: This one was a suggestion (as was the last one, actually) from No one in particular. I liked the idea for it, but I don't think I like how it turned out. I had another idea about halfway through, but it didn't work in at all, so I'm kind of annoyed about that. Whatever! As always, thanks for the reviews and feel free to suggest what you'd like to read!**

_Ginny Weasley_

_Bring! Bring! Bring!_ Brown eyes shot open and a hand burst out to quickly silence the alarm clock on the bedside table. Ginny hoped to god no one had heard it, but she needed a loud sound to wake her up. Her head was pounding with anxiety and adrenaline and she shoved on some jeans and a t-shirt. She opened the door and headed into the still-dark hallway. No one was around yet. _No one in their right mind would be_… Ginny thought to herself. After all, it was 4:30 in the morning. But it would be worth it. She'd make sure it was worth it.

Outside it was brisk, but that was expected. The sky looked clear enough, but it was dark, far darker than Ginny liked. She trudged over to the shed and flung it open, revealing several worn brooms. Charlie's was the best, since he had gotten a new one when he made Quidditch Captain a couple of years ago. She picked it up, careful not to get too many fingerprints on it, and stared at it for a moment. She'd been sneaking out to fly on her brothers' brooms for years now and still no one had caught her at it. Now at the spunky age of nine, Ginny craved for someone to fly with her, to be able to join in her brothers' Quidditch matches. She wanted to go to Hogwarts now, so she could join the team, just so that she could have an excuse to fly.

She didn't think anyone would ever understand the way she felt about flying. It gave her a thrill that she couldn't get from her normal life. She was the youngest in her family, the only girl, the most spoiled, and the one who got the most attention. Sometimes she wanted to get away from that and flying was the only thing that allowed her to do so. Planting her feet alongside the broom, Ginny kicked off the ground hard and took a deep breath. The world looked a lot different from up there, on top of her broom (well, Charlie's broom). She flew for well over an hour, enjoying her time alone.

Just as the tinges of red on the horizon became truly noticeable, Ginny went in for the landing. But something was different this time: someone was standing over by the broom shed. _Oh no,_ Ginny panicked mentally. _Please don't let it be mum._ As she got a little lower, she fully recognized her father, watching her with an amused smile upon his face. She landed next to him, expecting him to make a comment, but he didn't. He merely smiled politely, watched her put her broom away, and stared after her as she made her way into the house. _He's known for a while,_ decided Ginny. _That probably wasn't his first time watching me_. But she didn't mind. She knew he wouldn't tell mum. They were kindred spirits after all.

**A/N: Please review and let me know what you think!**


	8. Helena Ravenclaw

**A/N: I'm not particularly happy with how this one turned out, as I had a hard time writing it. It's a request (again) from No one in particular. Oh, and as I side note, I won't be updating for at least a week since I'll be at camp. **

_Helena Ravenclaw_

There it stands. The only thing that stands between me and intelligence as great and vast as _hers_. And yet it is so far away. I move my arm forward, but cannot touch it.

I resent my mother. I don't believe I truly hate her, but oh, I hate her presence. The smartest, the wittiest, the cleverest of them all, Rowena Ravenclaw, one of the great four founders of this vast prison in which I stand.

Her chambers are quite orderly. I've never been in them before, at least not as far in as her bedroom. The blue carpeting goes well with the silver hangings, and the crest of our family with a deep blue raven at its center hangs upon the wall. Beneath the crest is a small, sparse bed beside which is a small pedestal. My mother is surprising careless with her belongings for such a brilliant witch. It is there, but I still cannot touch it. Perhaps a barrier… But no! I know only my own barriers exist here; my ordinariness blocks me from holding something so great.

My mother doesn't truly care much for me. When I was young, she was much too busy making plans for the school, Hogwarts. When I got older, she brought me here, to teach me. She never recognized me as her daughter, only as a student, and a lousy one at that. I want to be smart, to succeed, but not to be what she wants me to be. I only wish to surpass her, to make her see that I am worth something. Now all she wants is for me to marry that stupid Baron! She thinks that I am good for nothing except marriage and carrying on the Ravenclaw line. No! I will not give in! I… will…take it!

My hand has passed the barrier, but it is trembling, trembling so. My fingers are so close I can feel the magical humming of the object. I wonder briefly whether taking the object will affect my mother's intelligence, but then think better of it. She is brilliant, enhanced or not. She made it in the first place, for crying out loud! A breeze flows through the window, and my hand drifts a centimeter forward, resting finally on the cool metal. I clench my fingers solidly around the object, pick it up, run. She must have security spells of some sort. But I've got it! I have the diadem, but not a victory. For I am just realizing how foolish my plan was.

**A/N: Please, please, please review and give suggestions! Thanks to everyone who's been reviewing so far!**


	9. Igor Karkaroff

**A/N: This is my least favorite chapter so far, probably because I don't like Karkaroff at all. I especially don't like how I ended it, but I really couldn't think of anything else without changing the focus too much.**

_Igor Karkaroff_

No one had come near the shack in years. The rotted wood looked as though it would disintegrate inward at the slightest touch and green vines had gradually overtaken the outer walls. The floor was plain dirt, infested with worms and beetles. No furniture remained, merely a couple of glassless windows and built-in shelves decorated the one room hovel. It was a mile away from civilization; the perfect place for a wizard on the run to hide.

Igor Karkaroff sat huddled in his rags in the corner of the shack. It had been his home for a month now, but he had barely registered his surroundings for the past six months. After running from the Dark Lord's call, he had felt constant pains in his left arm. It was always burning, burning, beckoning. It had taken over what was left of his life, had filled his mind with pain, with burning, with fire, constant fire. He was like the shack, broken and crumbling, overwhelmed by snaking vines of blazing pain.

He couldn't remember the last time he had eaten. It didn't particularly matter to him anymore. Nothing did. He wanted to die, but didn't have the energy to kill himself. He would wait for the hunger or thirst to overtake him. A sound at the door made him jerk his head up, a surprisingly sudden movement for someone so weak. A black form stood in the doorway, like Death itself.

"Are you here to kill me?" asked Igor in a small, pathetic voice.

"Yes," whispered the figure.

"Thank God," Igor breathed.

A flash of green light flooded the hut and a dull thud sounded as the famished corpse of Igor Karkaroff hit the ground. "Sorry, Igor," Snape said softly as he stared at the man's dull eyes. Striding out of the hut, he decided he was glad he was the one who killed Karkaroff. None of the other Death Eaters would have mourned Igor's death.

**A/N: Let me know what you think! Please review!**


	10. James Potter

**A/N: Sorry I haven't updated in so long guys! I was away for a week (again), and then I had a lot of trouble with this one. It's really hard for me to do the Mauraders because there's so many fandoms with them already, and I don't want to copy off of something that I've already read. James especially I find difficult. I actually wrote something completely different, but I really hated it, so I tried again and wrote this. I think it's acceptable, but it's definitely not my best. **

_James Potter_

"What are we going to do?"

That had been the single thought running through James' head for the past day. After a long and unsettling chat with Dumbledore, he had left the living room feeling dejected, useless, helpless. His wife and child were in danger and he couldn't do anything about it. James had always been the type to take action; he could never be able to stand sitting around in his house, waiting around for Voldemort to either be vanquished or attack them. He was always the noble sort, one who would save anyone, even his enemies. But how could he go on, knowing he was unable to contribute in the protection of his wife and child? Dumbledore had told him he couldn't perform any charms or spells that would help, as the Fidelius charm was their only hope.

James had only felt like this once before: the day Lily had given birth to Harry. He had gone into the delivery room, prepared to do anything he could to help his wife out of her pain. The Healer, however, had declared him a nuisance and had shoved him out of the room. He had stood pacing directly outside of the door. He couldn't even give moral support; he was merely a pest! He had forgotten this feeling at the sight of his newborn son, but this time it was different. Any time he tried to enjoy the drastically increased time he had with his family, the helplessness overshadowed his joy and forced him into a state of lethargic semi-depression.

"James, what's wrong with you lately?" Lily asked him, about a month after the beginning of their confinement. "You seem so down."

"You know what's wrong, Lily!" he stated harshly. "I can't do anything. We're all in danger and I can't do anything."

Lily smirked a bit, and stared him straight in the eye. "That's just like you, James. You always feel like you need to _do_ something. What you don't realize is that most of the time, what you're already doing is sufficient enough." James gave her a puzzled look. "I love being with you, and so does Harry. You being here, being you, it's enough. Let other people take care of the brave stuff for once."

James smiled and gave Lily a peck on the nose. He realized she was right, but he was reluctant to admit defeat so easily. His renewed cheerful demeanor, however, made the last months of Lily's life the best.

**A/N: Let me know what you think! Please review! I should (hopefully) update a little more regularly for a while now. Oh, and thanks again to everyone who has reviewed so far!**


	11. Kreacher

**A/N: I like the premise behind this one, but I feel like my style turned out choppy and my sentences awkward. I might do some rewriting on it, but I'd love to hear what you guys have to say first!**

_Kreacher_

He wasn't able to complete his master's order. The thought had rattled him all of his desperate, lonely time in the Black household. He couldn't be called a proper house-elf if he couldn't obey an order as simple as this. _Destroy the locket_. That was all Master Regulus had wanted. Yet even with Kreacher's advanced elf magic capabilities, he could not crush, smash, maim, scrape, scratch, or even open the locket his master had given his life for. It should have been Kreacher's life on the line, Kreacher should have been the dead one, but Master had called him and forced the information out.

Master Regulus had been kind to Kreacher, always kind. He had treated Kreacher, well, not like an equal, but as close as he could get. He would always give Kreacher warm blankets during the winter, leftover food when he was hungry and couldn't get any from the older Mistress, and long conversations when he was lonely. Then in a flash Regulus was gone, an impossible order in his place. Kreacher's small house-elf mind couldn't take the strain, and within a few years he had snapped.

Harry Potter reminded Kreacher of Regulus. They both had black hair, concerned eyes, loving hearts. They both wanted what they thought was best for the world. Kreacher's mind blurred the two men together, forcing them into one ideal image of a master. When Kreacher would say "Yes, Master Harry," he would be talking both to Harry and Regulus. They were both his Master, forever his friends. Kreacher could sense enough to know when Harry needed his help. He could tell that by helping Harry, he would complete Master Regulus' order.

At the Battle of Hogwarts, Kreacher stood amidst a crowd of screams, jets of light, and chaos. He was scared, but he couldn't let it show; Master Regulus was watching. Regulus had been brave for him, and now that he could no longer be, Kreacher had to be brave for Regulus. Kreacher had to be brave for…himself. The thought was so selfish, so repulsive, and yet…it made sense. Maybe the Mudblood girl was on to something, and Dobby too. In the end, all Regulus had wanted was for him to be free. Unknowingly, Kreacher had trapped himself within his failure, doing the exact opposite of what Regulus had wished. Now, yelling and flailing his arms wildly, stinging the large Death Eaters with his tiny jets of magical light, Kreacher was following no orders but his own. And yet, in a way, he still managed to make his dead Master prouder than he would have by destroying the locket. He could feel it.

**A/N: Thanks for all the past reviews! Please feel free to critique, give suggestions, all that kind of stuff!**


	12. Lucius Malfoy

**A/N: I feel like a lot of these are turning out to be really similar in terms of theme, but I really couldn't think of much else for Lucius. Sorry for the wait again, but these probably won't be coming out particularly regularly for a while since I'm starting up school this week. **

_Lucius Malfoy_

I have never been prone to kindness or generosity, and certainly not to sentiment. I learned very early that the Malfoy name was respected, and if I was to uphold that name, I would have to develop a mask as hard as ice. Thus the mask of a Death Eater seemed to be designed perfectly for my narrow face. It hid my emotion, my thoughts, as I attempted to destroy the lives of those who did not deserve to live.

Did I truly believe that Muggles and those with Muggle blood did not deserve to live? At first, yes. I was a brainwashed youth, convinced that my father's ideals were the only path I could take. Marrying Narcissa did nothing to change this, as she was just as blinded as I was. We both saw ourselves as soldiers, vigilantes of a darker nature, attempting to protect the name of wizard. I would go out nightly, using my magic to torture, to kill, to please the Dark Lord. I rose in rank and became consumed with the madness of power. That is, until the unthinkable happened. Until I became a father.

Draco Malfoy. Who knew such a small being could make such a big impact? Holding the small blonde baby in my arms, the baby who I knew would grow up to be just like me, I realized that my Death Eater mask was just that: a mask. I wasn't a Death Eater on the inside. I wasn't a killer. I was a coward. The only reason I had joined the Death Eaters was to gain power, enough power to banish my doubts. And yet, as I stared into the baby Draco's proportionately large blue-gray eyes, I recognized that power could never erase my fears. Only love could, the kind of unconditional love an infant could give its new parents.

If only I had learned how to love like that. If only I could learn in the first place. But cruelty was built into me by then, and I couldn't stop my son from becoming just like me. My one and only son… The old me would be proud of him, but I know him well enough to understand: we're both too cowardly to remove our masks.

**A/N: Please let me know what you think! And suggestions are MUCH appreciated! Thanks for the reviews so far!**


	13. Minerva McGonagall

**A/N: I am SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO sorry I haven't updated in so long! I kind of took a break from fanfiction for a while to concentrate on school. But I'm back (for now at least) and writing again! I'm not amazingly happy with this one. I had a lot of different ideas for it and they kind of melded together. I could have written a TON more on this, but I'm also writing another fic with a younger Minerva right now (it's called Impossible Tasks, go read it), and I want to save my good stuff for that. But here you go! **

_Minerva McGonagall_

I never really knew why I was in Gryffindor while I was in school. Bravery seemed wasteful in peaceful times, and peaceful they were for most of my time at Hogwarts. Even towards the end of my schooling career when Grindelwald reigned, nobody really cared because it was in a different part of Europe, involving people we didn't know. Of course later I marveled at my naiveté, at how I could completely ignore the fact that innocent people were being for a cause that they didn't even know about. Muggles seemed so insignificant when compared with my N.E.W.T.s and seventh year.

About a year after I left school, I heard his name. Of course, I had heard it before, but I hadn't really _heard_ it. Albus Dumbledore. He had defeated Grindelwald in one fell swoop, but instead of killing him, locked him up forever. Although I didn't realize it then, he had inspired me. And when he became headmaster of Hogwarts, I decided to go back, to learn from him and to teach everybody else what little I had gathered about transfiguration after ten years of research outside of school. From the first, Albus gave me more credit than I deserved. He gave me extra duties and privileges, working especially hard to show me he had faith in my skills. He pounded pro-Muggle sentiments and _reality_ into my head until I couldn't believe the horrors the wizarding world had inflicted on the Muggles.

"Minerva," he approached me one day.

"Yes, Albus?" I sighed as I looked up from the papers I was grading.

"What do you know about Voldemort?" he queried, a serious glint in his eye.

I sat back, astounded. Voldemort was a relatively new presence among wizards, not yet You-Know-Who, but still a well-known force of evil. "Why, do you suspect of something?" I voiced the only reason I could think of for him to ask such a question.

"No, of course not," he chuckled. "I'm starting an…alliance of sorts. Against anti-Muggle activity. Against Voldemort. I was wondering if you'd like to join."

I knew this was big. BIG. Voldemort had influences high up in the ministry and could easily get Albus and anyone who followed him killed for something like this. I thought for a minute, but my mind was already made up from the moment he had mentioned it. "Yes, I'll join you."

That was the first act on my road to becoming a true Gryffindor. Strange that my red and gold stripes, my lion's pride and bravery, didn't emerge until after they actually seemed to matter. Bravery didn't seem so special when it was for the sake of my students and the poor Muggles subjected to the cruelty of an unknown force.

**A/N: Next one should be up soon! Hopefully sometime in the next week or so. It'll be a good one too because it's one of my favorite characters (not telling who). Please review!**


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